


Bad Guy’s Clothes

by anyothergirl415



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-02
Updated: 2010-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike is back on the set of Smallville for a guest episode, Misha stops by his trailer, insanity ensues as per usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Guy’s Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> 30 NaNo Shots 2010 - Prompt: visit

Just to be official about things, Misha thought it should be known that he’d never actually seen a full episode of Smallville. Jared had this obsession with the one where Jensen and Mike were tied up so Misha had seen that bit – and he was fairly certain Jared and Jensen had reenacted it later – but that was about it. So besides knowing that Mike played Lex Luthor, and that his character was a snazzy dresser with absolutely no hair, Misha had no clue why Mike was going back to film a guest spot.

As far as he knew, Lex had died on the show when Mike had left. But then, he knew pretty damn well how easy it was to bring characters back to life. See: Sam and Dean Winchester in just about every other episode. And Castiel a couple times for that matter.

There wasn't much logic to Misha being on set minus the fact that he was seeing Mike, was in Vancouver already, and well, he had some time off. Sure he could have been working on future tweets to torment and amuse the minions but those were an inspiration thing. Spur of the moment genius and all that jazz.

Boredom while he waited in Mike's trailer led to snooping. Misha liked to imagine he was some brilliant thief and this sneaking around thing was his preparation before the big heist. He even hummed theme music. What? Was anyone expecting him to act normal?

The jackpot was finding the back closet. There was an assortment of Lex outfits - God, bad guys were snazzy dressers apparently - and Misha ran his hands over the silky shirts, maybe a little envious. After all, there were only so many times you could put on the exact same trench coat, dress shirt and tie before it got a little tedious. For some reason Sera hadn’t been keen on his idea of letting Castiel wear spandex in an episode, go figure.

Not that Mike had spandex to wear – here at least, Misha was able to talk him into pretty much anything in their private lives. Instead it was nice black pants and a form fitting black silk shirt. Misha ran his fingers over the shirt, contemplating how very nice it would be on. Mike was lucky, even if he had to wear a bald cap because he refused to shave his hair off again. Thank god.

Temptation was Misha's kryptonite - pun completely intended - and so sliding out of his shirt and pulling the one off the hanger was all too easy. It smelled like Mike, he must have been filming with it on earlier, and Misha inhaled deeply before running the material over his chest. His eyes slid back over his shoulder to the door and he made the official decision that Mike loved him enough to not be pissed if Misha tested out just how comfortable the shirt was.

It was silky and smooth as he slid it on, a little more snug than he’d thought it would be but Misha was flexible, he could twist his way around to get inside and be just fine. Misha was a fairly skinny dude, he prided himself on that, but Mike’s shirt was definitely a size or two too small which was odd, Misha had worn Mike’s clothing plenty of times and it was fine before.

So seeing as the shirt was too small and made him hold his arms back all weirdly, Misha sighed and certainly lost the effect of wearing silk. Maybe he should invest in some silk boxers, they would probably feel really amazing on.

Misha pulled at the sleeve, twisting his arm back to tug it off, but it wouldn’t budge. Frowning, he bent his arms back, wiggling his arms to try and get the material off. It wasn’t moving but Misha wasn’t prone to panic so he simply walked in a circle, twisting around and around as he struggled to get the shirt off his arms.

About the time Misha began to seriously worry about the shirt and the way it was holding his arms back – this had to be doing damage to his spine – the door of the trailer opened.

“Yeah, okay Mary; I’ll just be a few minutes. Just want to see if my friend came by-“ Mike called out to whoever he had been walking with.

Misha braced himself for the inevitable, slowly grinning when Mike ascended the steps and stopped to stare at him. “I’ve gotten a little stuck.” He pointed out, smiling in his most charming, sweetest way. Mike called it his _lethal_ smile because it was impossible to be upset with him in any way whenever that smile was in place.

“I ended up not wearing that one because it was too small.” Mike pointed out and shook his head, crossing the trailer and walking a slow circle around Misha. “Do I even want to know why you put my shirt on?”

“Wardrobe envy.” Misha shrugged, head turning from side to side to track Mike’s movements. “We could have some kinky sex like this you know.”

“You would go there.” Mike laughed softly and gripped the back of the shirt, giving it a sharp tug. “I hope I don’t have to call someone in to help me undress you. My reputation would be ruined.”

“Oh heaven forbid you can’t undress your own boyfriend. Sorry. _Friend_.” Misha sighed with as much dramatic flair as he could muster – which was quite a lot actually – and he jerked away from Mike’s touch. “I’m sure I can get out all on my own. Thank you.”

“Stop it.” Mike groaned and crowded into his space, arms sliding around his middle. “Seriously Misha, I’m back on set for like, three days total. I hardly know these people anymore; they don’t need the complete gay break down of my life.”

This was all rather ridiculous. In the first place, Misha hadn’t been intending to mention the whole _friend_ comment at all because honestly, hardly anyone in his own life knew about their relationship so it wasn’t that big of a deal. But Misha was _stuck_ which was a little embarrassing and he liked to have a distraction.

“Dude, I don’t care,” Misha laughed weakly and wiggled his arms. “Get me free.”

“Dude, don’t say dude. That’s usually a sign that you do care.” Mike pointed out and he turned away, reaching out to grab a pair of scissors then walking around to Misha’s back.

  
For a moment Misha had a flash of this turning into some twisted horror movie and he sympathized for Jensen having to cuddle Jared when he broke down in sobs about his untimely death, but then there was the sort of the fabric tearing as Mike cut and Misha’s thoughts stopped being insane.

When he could bring his arms forward, Misha quickly pulled at the sleeves and slid them off, bundling them up and tossing them into the trash. Mike was watching him, his lips twitching to hide a smile, and Misha groaned. “Michael, if you must laugh at me, have the sense of dignity to do it in a pillow or something.”

“Misha,” Mike snorted the name, swallowed, and shook his head. “You’re inappropriately adorable. You know that right?”

“I just wanted to be Lex Luthor for a little while.” Misha pouted and stepped into Mike’s open arms, laying his head on the man’s shoulder. “It’s so tiring being an angel all the time.”

“Oh I know baby,” Mike cooed sympathetically and stroked Misha’s hair.

Snorting, Misha pushed at his boyfriend until they were both colliding into the wall of the trailer. “Assbutt.”

“Mmhmm.” Mike hummed, clearly unaffected by angel insults, and dipped down to kiss Misha’s collar bone. “Wanna see what they’ll do if the trailer’s rockin’?”

“You’re so lucky this isn’t my set. Those two nobodies I work with would just come inside without knocking.” Misha murmured, head falling to the side.

Mike laughed against his neck and pulled them back through the trailer, clearly unaffected by the idea of being caught.

Some part of Misha was really okay with that.

~End  



End file.
